


Across the Pillow

by dirtylittlegreasemonkey



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-04-12
Packaged: 2018-03-22 13:49:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3731209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dirtylittlegreasemonkey/pseuds/dirtylittlegreasemonkey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Canon based. Set the morning of Easter Monday before Aaron and Robert end up snuggled in Home Farm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Across the Pillow

**Author's Note:**

> Short and sweet. Thanks as ever to my good friend phantompillow who keeps me awake until stupid o'clock thinking up cute Robron situations.

 

“It’s creepy to watch someone sleep, you know.” Aaron says, not bothering to open his eyes, stretching up his arm and stuffing it under the pillow. The bed sheets, the achingly soft cotton of them rub against his nipples as he shifts. They’re tender still, blood pink, from where Robert had been over eager in the middle of the night – pinching, sucking, biting, the lot. With his slow rise into consciousness his body alerts him to areas of his body that have been overexerted – in a good way – and his hips thrum in a low volume ache as he rolls onto his side, facing Robert.

Aaron lets his eyes flicker open, his smile destroying the aloof way he tries to cling onto sleep and sees Robert’s eyes, bright and steady, drinking him in. Even across the pillow Aaron smells the warm, musty morning scent coming from him – a comfort he’s been getting far too used to – and boxes it up in his memories along with the tastes of his mouth. Opening his eyes seems to give Robert an even greater satisfaction and a slight groan eases from him, wriggling for comfort with his chin propped up, elbow making a crater in the pillow.

“I was trying not wake you,” Robert says, voice all grumbly and thick just like it sounded in the middle of the night on the back of Aaron’s neck. It wasn’t just the week long privacy and freedom to fuck for endless, uninterrupted hours without need for caution, it was the time it gave them without rushing for a quick fix or climax – that’s what Aaron had revelled in. It was Robert’s arm finding him in the night, gliding around his middle and pulling him in close until there wasn’t a breath’s space between their skin; it was Robert’s finger tracing circles below his navel; it was Robert pressing full, soft kisses at the nape of his neck, right below his ear and murmuring _I love you_ with lethargic honesty; it was Aaron lacing his fingers between Robert’s and leaning back for his skin to request another kiss, another reassurance of his affection. He hadn’t said it back yet, not even when he felt his whole body was being ripped apart by his need to say it.

“Five more minutes,” Aaron says, fighting off a yawn, as Robert tries to stir him, skimming his hand down the contour of his body. His sleep had been fractured all week - whether it was the unfamiliar bed or the strangeness of having a warm, heavy sleeper beside him – kicking and moaning his way through dreams – but sometimes it had been of his own doing. Some nights they’d found each other in drowsy laziness, mouths half-shy in sleep and bodies too soft and abstract. And some nights Aaron stayed awake long enough to listen to Robert be dragged under, listening to the way his breathing changed and the slumping atrophy of his body, watching the grey light from gaps in the curtains paint across his spine so he could count the constellations of his boyish freckles.

Aaron knows all too well that patience isn’t something Robert finds easy so it isn’t long before his five minutes of peace is knocked out of grasp. The bed rocks like a boat in a storm as Robert scrambles closer in a blur of erratic sandy hair and pink flesh and he’s kissing a path of needy kisses along Aaron’s scruffy jaw. Robert doesn’t have a down time but mornings, it seems, fire up his libido like no other time.

His mouth is on Aaron’s shoulders now, tongue and lips finding any inch of skin to make his own, the top of his hair brushing against Aaron’s beard.

“Don’t you ever give up?” Aaron throws his hand down on the mattress and his chest caves at his frustrated puff of air.

Robert leans over him, bolstered by his knuckles in the bed. His smile is blinding. “Not when I’ve got you in my bed.”

Aaron’s dryness stills function on limited sleep and he shakes his head at Robert’s cheesy compliments, but he’s charmed enough not to dodge the kiss that Robert presses on him, which comes with a sound that moans out of his gut and buzzes through his lips. He runs his nails through the back of Robert’s hair and then before he realises it, the kiss has ended and Robert’s head comes to rest on his chest, nestled under his jaw. His arm spans out, his thumb dancing along Aaron’s pulsing wrist until they’re palm against palm and fingers entwined.

They’ll get out of bed soon, decamping to the lounge in sleep-warm pyjamas – items of which get swapped depending on who is out of bed first. It’s become routine. Breakfast is Robert’s domain and drink making Aaron’s. They’ll put on the radio and entangle in coffee kisses and share jokes born from the night before. Sometimes they’ll shower and dress and reluctantly part for work, sometimes they won’t and they’re back upstairs, back under the covers.

But right now they do none of that. It’s Easter Monday and Aaron can feel the heat of Robert’s skin against his and the weight of his reply - _I love you too -_ unsaid on his lips.

 

 


End file.
